


Bordeaux

by quiznakeries



Series: Lips Like Blood & Wine [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, Female Keith (Voltron), Female Shiro (Voltron), Femslash, Genderbending, Porn with Feelings, missing scene from Blood From Grapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiznakeries/pseuds/quiznakeries
Summary: “The wine cellar sounds very cool, by the way.”“You called me a nerd thirty seconds ago.” Shiro tugs playfully on Keith’s hand, making her stumble.“You are a nerd, nerd.”Shiro takes too long coming up with a witty retort, and then Keith’s spun around on her heels. Shiro blinks down at her, at the mischievous spark in her eye, at the faint freckles on her nose.“Never said it was a bad thing.”It’s so distracting, watching and yielding to the younger woman as she nudges Shiro backwards. So much, she almost forgets what they’re talking about.“If you like it, I’m sure I can teach you a thing or two.” It’s not about the wine anymore, it never was. But the intensity in the way Keith watches her speak urges her on. She lets herself be guided into one of the comfy armchairs, Keith smirking down at her. “Champagne, maybe? Veneto?”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Lips Like Blood & Wine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152791
Kudos: 18





	Bordeaux

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vilna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilna/gifts).



> Probably not the best to read as a stand alone, but if you're just in it for the porn, it'll be fine either way!
> 
> The fic this comes from is [HERE!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585587/chapters/64817584)

“Fuck-” Keith spits when the empty plate collides with the floor. She looks at Shiro with a sheepish smile, shrugs. “Sorry?”

Shiro couldn’t care less about the plate.

It’s the first time Keith’s been to the house, one week since the ballet recital. Six days since she broke it to her oldest friend their marriage is over.

Adam had taken it well, all things considered. Had suspected, if not known, if it was going to work out, it would have already.

Shiro left Adam’s condo with a heart that couldn’t decide if it was heavy or light, and it was all a big blur. She took a day off work Monday, cleared her head. And even if nothing had really changed all that much, waking up in her empty bed that day was not the greatest feeling.

She took a few days to herself. Went about her routine, all week. Except she cancelled her two weekly appointments with Keith. 

After a few days, it was like a weight lifted. It sunk in that she didn’t dread checking her private cell, or tortured herself between meetings for being too uninvested in her marriage anymore.

Come Friday, she called Keith.

They met up at noon the following day, at a bistro Keith swore on her life Shiro would love.

She wasn’t wrong.

It was dreamy, if anything, sitting at a little table by the window and see the sunlight catch on Keith’s long hair when she shifted in her seat. Having lunch together, no more walls in between.

Shiro learned that Keith always eats like she’s starving, and that italian cuisine ticks all her boxes. She saw how those impossibly blue eyes widened in unadulterated excitement when a serving of tiramisu half the size of her head landed in front of her on the table. She noticed the way Keith glanced curiously at her over the rim of her coffee cup when Shiro spoke about her work. Shiro also learned that when it came to her life before moving to Boston, Keith was quick to steer off the subject. That is something Shiro can relate to. She hardly jumps at the opportunity to talk about her accident.

Parting afterwards didn’t seem right, and they ended up strolling around the block for as long as Shiro’s leg would allow.

Then Shiro remembered Keith mentioning she had a weakness for cars, motorcycles, anything that’ll go fast. And she tossed Keith the keys to the Mercedes.

Keith drove with the precision and grace of a professional, through the city and out in the open road at Shiro’s instruction.

Keith laughed wildly, caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she sped up on a straight stretch of road, pushing her limits.

Shiro had refused to let her love for driving take too much of a hit after the accident. She’d bought her dream car, had Adam drive her somewhere every single day until she could do it herself again.

It was before they realized her leg would not get much better. Before everything turned sour.

But even before all that, she’d never seen the car bring so much joy to the person behind the wheel. Keith was practically sparkling, and Shiro couldn’t look away.

At the end of their joyride, they found themselves here. In an old house by a small lake. In Shiro’s home. It was a new kind of thrill, really, seeing Keith kick her shoes off and sink into the couch like she belonged there.

Conversation kept flowing freely, easily. They covered pet peeves, political views, favorite movie snacks. Keith made her laugh in a way no one has for a long, long time, and suddenly enough time had passed for both their bellies to start to rumble again.

Asking Keith to stay for dinner was hardly even a question, but more like a natural extension.

Shiro had already come clean about her complete lack of cooking talent, and it turned out Keith is about as disastrous in front of a stove as she is. 

They made it work, though.

They set up dinner in the dining room, bizarrely big for two people. But with the large windows overlooking the glinting lake, the dark colors of the room, flickering light from candles that haven’t been lit for at least a year, the spacious room seemed intimate.

So, when the first kiss of the entire day finally happened, perhaps they got carried away.

Which is how Keith ended up elbowing an empty dinner plate to the floor.

“Don’t worry about it.” Shiro says, grinning at Keith as they both bend to pick up the pieces. “Just try to control yourself, why don’t you?”

Keith flicks her on the forehead, waving a shard of porcelain at her. “Shut up. At least tell me I didn’t break some super expensive plate?” 

Shiro giggles, collecting the broken plate in a napkin. Keith doesn’t sound like she’d actually feel worse if that were the case.

“Hell if I know.”

It’s already been established that Shiro wasn’t terribly invested in the home building process. Keith snorts.

“Is there anything in this house you cared enough to have an opinion on?”

“Sure,” Shiro tries to sound offended. “My office. And the wine cellar. Adam didn’t get to say much at all about that one, I’ll have you know.”

“You have a wine cellar?” Keith looks at her like she can’t decide if she’s impressed or not.

Shiro hums, straightening up in her seat and dumping the shattered porcelain on her own plate. “A big one. Regulated humidity and temperature, stone walls.”

“Nerd.” Keith smirks, standing up and offering Shiro her hand. “C’mon. I’m not risking breaking any more of your fancy china.”

Halfway down the hall, Keith looks over her shoulder at Shiro, trailing after her with their fingers intertwined. “The wine cellar sounds very cool, by the way.”

“You called me a nerd thirty seconds ago.” Shiro tugs playfully on Keith’s hand, making her stumble.

“You are a nerd, nerd.”

Shiro takes too long coming up with a witty retort, and then Keith’s spun around on her heels. Shiro blinks down at her, at the mischievous spark in her eye, at the faint freckles on her nose.

“Never said it was a bad thing.”

It’s so distracting, watching and yielding to the younger woman as she nudges Shiro backwards. So much, she almost forgets what they’re talking about.

“If you like it, I’m sure I can teach you a thing or two.” It’s not about the wine anymore, it never was. But the intensity in the way Keith watches her speak urges her on. She lets herself be guided into one of the comfy armchairs, Keith smirking down at her. “Champagne, maybe? Veneto?”

Keith makes a pensive little noise, and takes the cane out of Shiro’s hand. She holds it in both of her palms for a moment, inspecting it like it’s a fine blade. Then she curls her fingers around it, just below the steel tip, and points the rubber handle end at Shiro.

“Nah.” She muses, using the cane to trace the line of Shiro’s jaw, to tilt her head up by applying pressure below her chin. Shiro’s barely breathing, watching this young, petite woman fill out every nook and cranny in the room with her presence, swift and luscious. “I was always more of a Bordeaux kind of girl.”

The cane falls on the rug with a thump, discarded as the woman in front of her enters Shiro’s space, straddling her thighs, nimble fingers disappearing into her hair. “Dark, heady.”

There’s a flash of grinning teeth, before Keith’s face is too close for Shiro to see. Instead she feels the warmth of her skin. The damp puffs of breath. “Strong.”

Shiro draws a stuttering breath, hands gliding up the length of strong dancer thighs, past the short skirt, and under the silky hem of a loosely fitted top. Keith’s skin is impossibly soft, that tiny waist arching into Shiro’s touch.

“If you want me to eat you alive,” She teases, Keith’s lips brushing against hers when she talks. “-you could just say so.”

Keith’s body turns heavy on Shiro’s lap, melting into her, breath fanning over Shiro’s mouth a little heavier. Her fingers tighten in Shiro’s hair.

“Please.”

—

Keith is not a girl who wastes her time, that much Shiro has long since learned. And it holds true even now, quick fingers working on the buttons on Shiro’s blouse the second the door closes around them.

Shiro won’t pretend she hasn’t pictured this before. She has. And Keith lives up to every fantasy, enveloping and demanding even if the way she leans into Shiro’s touch is pliant and soft. 

The dark fabric falls open under Keith’s fingers, and the younger woman makes an appreciative noise, raspy and deep in her throat.

“Jesus, fuck,” Keith’s voice is breathy, verging on frantic as she tugs on her own top to pull it up and over her head in three seconds flat. Shiro watches her with wide eyes, hands gravitating instantly to curl around Keith’s rib cage. She traces the arch of the wires in Keith’s bra, mapping out the shape and reveling in the little shiver that racks Keith’s body when she does. 

Keith, on the other hand, paws at the skin coming into view as she slips the blouse off Shiro’s shoulders. Rubs and squeezes at the hard muscle of her biceps, shoulders, down her back and around to a taut abdomen. She’s fast, impatient, and it flares hot within Shiro just to see how much Keith wants this. Wants her.

Shiro let’s Keith have her moment, her own hands rubbing still circles right beneath the swell of Keith’s breasts as the other woman gropes and paws at her. It’s been a long time since anyone touched her, much longer since it was like this. Explorative, excited, a body pressing into hers like it can’t possibly get close enough if so they would merge together. 

She doesn’t bother trying to cover the way it makes her breath turn heavy, heat starting to pool in the pit of her stomach.

Keith hooks a finger on Shiro’s waistband, right by her left hip where the hidden zipper sits. She looks up at Shiro with a question in her eye, and Shiro al oat laughs. 

As if she could ever say no.

She gives a slight nod, transfixed by Keith’s sharp gaze, her plush lips that are slack and glossy. 

The zip goes down in one quick move, and then Keith’s hands are roaming once more, from the curve of Shiro’s hips, walking up her abs and cupping the soft mounds still waiting to be explored. Shiro’s breath hitches, Keith’s hands small but strong, squeezing her breasts through the thin fabric of the simple cotton bralette. 

Warm hands are joined by a slick mouth, hot breath and sharp teeth nipping at the skin on her collar bones. Shiro’s head spins, a tingling wave of arousal fogging up her mind. She crushes Keith’s body against hers, arms winding around her petite frame. Her hands splay out over her back, feeling silky strands of long hair and soft skin, the dips and valleys making out the shape of Keith. 

She draws a long, pleased breath when that clever mouth nibbles and licks along the fabric covering most of her breasts still, arching her back into the sensation just as Keith’s fingers slip under the elastic band. Keith tugs, urges Shiro to lift her arms with an impatient grunt when it doesn’t happen. Shiro huffs a quiet laugh, endeared. Even like this, hazy eyed and heated, Keith is incredibly cute still. 

Keith draws back to look up at her, pointedly tugging on the bralette. Shiro smirks, leaning over just enough to force Keith’s back to bend, her hair to fall out of the way from where it was flowing down her back. Keith’s eyes widen at the sudden move, but bends beautifully in Shiro’s hold. There’s a barely there snap of a clasp, and Shiro grins as realization dawns in Keith’s features. 

When they straighten up to stand normally again, Keith’s cute little bra practically falls off her shoulders. It slips to the floor, and Shiro feels a hot pulse in her core. But she doesn’t get a moment to indulge, before Keith’s back to pulling the corresponding piece of clothing over Shiro’s head.

Keith throws the garment across the room like it’s wronged her, and Shiro can’t help the giggle that bubbles up in her throat.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Keith glares at her, but it’s obvious she’s fighting a smile. Shiro doesn’t answer her, but curls a hand around the back of her neck and guides her into a kiss. It’s filthy, by now, more tongue and teeth than anything else. She sucks Keith’s tongue into her mouth, thumbs coming up to press firm circles over pert nipples and dragging a whine from the other woman’s throat. 

The sound goes straight between her legs.

Keith gives as good as she gets, catching Shiro’s lip between her teeth and rolling it, just shy of too harshly. Her fingers twist in Shiro’s hair, pulling hard and sending sparks down Shiro’s spine.

Before she knows it, Keith has got her sitting on the edge of the bed, slipping out of her slacks while Keith kicks off her shoes. The rushed movements stab at her leg but she can’t be bothered, not when she sits up straight and lands her eyes on Keith. Keith, wearing nothing but her flowy, mid thigh short skirt, flushed and messy haired with fang-like teeth glinting in the low light. Shiro stares, wetting her lips as she takes in the lithe frame, the toned muscle, creamy skin. Small, shapely breasts with the most perfect, dark buds still perky and hard from Shiro’s touch.

She’s ethereal, it’s a wonder she doesn’t actually glow.

Shiro lingers on the skirt. A high waist curving to the shape of Keith’s body, spanning out wider below the hip. It’s not anything like what Shiro’s ever worn, nor Adam. It’s youthful, and sexier than Shiro ever knew a perfectly normal skirt could be.

Keith must’ve noticed her looking throughout the day, because it seems the younger woman has no plans to take it off yet. 

“Get comfy.” Keith says, standing a few feet away from the bed, watching. Her fingers play with the hem of her skirt, and Shiro has to tear her face away to do what she’s told. She scoots up the bed, propped up on the many pillows in a half seated position that allows her to put her weight at the hips and upper body to avoid as much pain as possible. When she’s done, she raises an eyebrow at Keith, who stands still where she is. She flashes Shiro a grin, both hands hiking up the skirt at the sides where Shiro can’t see anything. 

Shiro nearly chokes, instantly salivating when Keith drags a pair of black cotton panties down the length of her legs, bending to hook them on a finger when they slide to the floor and she steps out of them. They swing where they hang off her finger, back and forth. Until they fall to the floor, abandoned as Keith finally moves to join Shiro on the bed.

Keith’s movements look nearly feline, graceful and light as she makes her way onto the cool sheets and crawls over Shiro’s waiting frame. She’s on all fours, caging Shiro in the best she can. Shiro doesn’t mind a single bit, moaning softly when Keith dips down for a deep kiss that makes her toes curl.

She squeezes Keith’s tiny waist in her hands, slides them down to cup plush ass cheeks through the fabric of the skirt. In this position, it hardly covers anything at the back anymore, just barely skimming the tops of her thighs. Keith presses into the touch, breath stuttering in her nose and tongue rolling more insistently against Shiro’s. 

Shiro kneads the jiggly flesh in her hands, well aware of the skirt riding higher and higher all the while. She’s just letting her fingertips dig into bare skin, when Keith breaks their kiss to sit back on her knees. She’s got her lip caught in her teeth, swollen and delicious. Slowly, she raises her hands to brush her hair back, black curls sliding up her chest and disappearing behind her back. Then she reaches back, taking Shiro’s hands and bringing them up to her sweet little breasts. Shiro complies easily, drinking in the o-shaped mouth and the soft sound coming from it when she pinches both of Keith’s nipples between her fingers.

Keith drops her head back, hands clamped on Shiro’s wrists as she continues to play with Keith’s nipples. It’s a sight like nothing else, watching Keith’s chest start to heave with labored breath, squirming and starting to rock her hips into nothing but air as Shiro rolls and tugs and teases the hardened nubs. 

It doesn’t take long, a few minutes at most, for Keith to lower her own hands, resting on her tense thighs and raising the skirt an inch or two. Shiro follows her every move hungrily, but doesn’t stop what she’s doing. Not until Keith hikes the skirt up to her hips, revealing the last of herself and making Shiro whimper beneath her.

Keith’s so wet, even untouched she’s already messy with shiny slick smeared in the trimmed pubic hair, in the crease of her thighs. Shiro feels her temperature spike, clit throbbing between her legs.

“Keith…” she doesn’t have anything much to say. Or maybe she has too many things. Regardless, nothing passes her lips except Keith’s name. 

“Do you want to touch me, Shiro?” Keith sounds as breathless as Shiro feels, not as teasing as she would probably have liked to come off. That only makes it better, though. Shiro watches as Keith rolls her hips in the air, moving slow, subtle but definitely there.

“Yeah, baby,” Shiro manages, hands twitching where they’re still resting on Keith’s chest. “I do. Can I?”

“Uh-huh.” Keith nods quickly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth again and canting her hips forward.

Shiro feels almost faint, so absolutely spellbound by this incredibly sexy woman hovering above her and just waiting for Shiro to touch her.

She lowers one of her hands, the other squeezing gently where it’s at. It’s a dilemma, choosing whether to watch her fingers slip between Keith’s slick folds, or seeing the look on the younger woman’s face shift at that first touch.

Ultimately, looking at Keith’s face has been her favorite thing long before this moment, and wins out in the end. So she locks eyes with Keith’s, watching intently as she moves her hand between Keith’s spread legs. 

Two fingers slide in slowly, parting Keith’s soaked folds. At the same time, Keith’s eyelids flutter, lip popping free as her mouth falls open just the tiniest bit. Shiro burns.

She teases Keith with her fingers like that, sliding through the wetness a few times, not applying pressure, not aiming for anything. Just moving up and down the line of Keith’s cunt until the woman above her starts to chase her fingers with the rock of her hips. 

Shiro would draw it out longer, drive Keith mad with never enough touches, but she doesn’t have the patience. Not tonight. She presses her thumb to Keith’s clit, rubbing hard little circles. Keith keens at the sudden change, bucking onto Shiro’s fingers. Shiro grins, slipping one of her fingers to Keith’s hole and pressing in. It goes without resistance, open and ready for her to simply slide in. The sensation, paired with the needy moan coming from Keith, makes her own hips kick. 

One finger quickly turns to two, three. Keith sucks her in like she needs it, and it has Shiro throbbing in her underwear to see her fingers disappear into the slick heat like it’s nothing. She keeps a slow pace, thrusting long fingers in long strokes that soon has Keith rutting against her. 

It’s incredible. It’s so fucking hot.

After some time, she starts meeting Keith’s attempted pace, giving one particularly hard thrust of her fingers. Keith moans, loud and gorgeous as her hands drop their hold on the skirt. It flops down over her thighs, blocking Shiro’s view. She tuts.

“I need to see you, baby.” Shiro says, seizing her movements and loving how it makes Keith whine above her. “Be a good girl and hold your skirt up for me.”

Keith shivers at the words, clenching on Shiro’s fingers sitting still and deep in her. But she does as Shiro asks, trembling fingers lifting the obstructing fabric out of the way. 

Shiro hums appreciatively, and picks up where she left off, fucking her fingers into Keith’s dripping hole, rolling one of her nipples between her fingers. Keith meets her thrusts, riding Shiro’s fingers at an increasingly fast pace and showering Shiro in punched out moans on every other hit. It doesn’t take long, with Shiro still rubbing firmly at her clit and crooking her fingers inside, for Keith to near her edge. It’s the most incredible thing, moans turning to high pitched hiccups, hips moving erratically as she ruts and clenches on Shiro’s fingers. 

“Shi- oh fuck, Shiro I’m-“

Then, with Shiro preening with pride underneath, Keith’s voice takes a turn, deep and sultry as she shakes apart in Shiro’s hands, knees giving out and leaning completely on Shiro’s support. Impossibly, a new rush of slick fluid pours between Shiro’s fingers, running down her wrist and dripping onto the sheets. Keith rides out her orgasm on Shiro’s fingers, continuing to move against her until she begins to tremble, whimpering and arching away when Shiro tests her by pressing hard against her swollen clit.

“Fuck, I-“ Keith pants, rolling off to the side as not to collapse onto Shiro. “Forget it, I don’t even know what words are anymore.”

Shiro laughs, looking over at the woman curled up next to her. Ruffled, shimmering with sweat, with a moony post orgasm smile, Keith is the most stunning person alive.

Keith isn’t looking back at her. Instead, her darkened eyes are fixed on Shiro’s hand, resting on her stomach. Shiro follows her gaze, and she understands. It’s almost obscene, how thoroughly drenched her hand is. How wet Keith got for her.

She starts to shift, to turn and wipe the slick on the sheet, but a warm hand around her wrist stops her. Shiro turns her head, looks at Keith who meets her eye this time. There’s something intense blooming on her features, growing embers.

Shiro let’s Keith guide her hand, up towards her own face. She can hear Keith’s breath still, can feel how long the moment stretches between the request being made and the action. But when Shiro understands, there’s no hesitation. Slowly, teasingly, she opens her mouth, taking two slick warm fingers to her tongue and closing her lips around them with a hum. Inches away, Keith breathes a soft moan. 

It’s tangy, and unfamiliar. But it also tastes like Keith, filling out her mouth and lingering on the tastebuds like a heady wine. 

She licks her fingers clean, then dips to catch Keith’s lips in a slow kiss. Keith whimpers into her mouth, shifting so she’s leaned over Shiro. They kiss for a good while, until Keith’s taste starts to fade. 

Keith pulls back, just enough for their eyes to meet. “Perhaps I should have told you beforehand that I’m basically a ride at a water park.”

Shiro bursts out laughing, loud and hearty. She laughs into Keith’s mouth when she tries to resume their kiss, making a mess of it until Keith is giggling too. It’s beyond Shiro, how Keith can keep surprising her. How a single person can be so unpredictable yet still so safe, how she’s able to bring warmth and joy where no one else has been able to for so long.

It’s overwhelming. But Shiro is so fucking grateful. She gets a hold of herself, and surges to kiss Keith properly, cupping Keith’s face in her hands. She sighs happily when Keith reciprocates, nimble hands starting to wander on Shiro’s skin as the kiss deepens.

When they part, Keith’s got her fingertip tracing circles around one of Shiro’s nipples, teasing it into hardness. Keith smiles, a soft, fleeting little thing, and drops another chaste kiss to Shiro’s lips. Her mouth then travels on, up the line of Shiro’s jaw, down her neck. Shiro melts into the bed, stays still as Keith slowly scoots down a few inches, leaving wet kisses and love bites in her wake. 

Keith’s lying on her side, pressed up against Shiro with the entire length of her body. Shiro rests her hand at the back of Keith’s head, gently encouraging when the younger woman wraps her lips around a nipple. The hand that’s been playing with the other nub gives a final squeeze, fingers creeping down her stomach. 

Shiro swallows the saliva pooling in her mouth, trying to take in both the visual and the sensations brought on by Keith’s ministrations. It’s a lot, and Shiro knows it won’t take much more.

It’s been a long time, and Keith is making her pulse race just by looking. 

“Hahh-” Her hips kick when Keith’s feather light fingers reach the top of her underwear, tracing the crease of her thigh. The mouth clamped on her nipple scrapes teeth on the sensitive skin, just as those fingers dip to feel out the wet spot staining Shiro’s panties. 

Shiro curses under her breath, fingers digging into Keith’s scalp. She doesn’t miss how it makes Keith’s eyelashes flutter.

Keith keeps barely touching her, teasing just as Shiro had done earlier. But Shiro’s less receptive to teasing, or at the very least is now after going untouched for so long.

She takes her free hand, grabbing Keith’s smaller one, and slips them both past the damp fabric. Keith jolts, a tiny noise coming from her throat, but let’s Shiro guide her. 

“Yes.” Shiro throws her head back, her hand going lax on top of Keith’s as the younger finally slips firm fingers between Shiro’s folds. It’s electric, hyper sensitive by now. She arches into Keith’s touch when she dips her fingers inside, testing the waters. “That’s it baby.”

Keith squirms, licking a broad stripe over the swell of the beast before her, reaching heavily into Shiro’s skin. She keeps going, pressing two fingers as deep as she can from the given angle, scissoring them for good measure. 

Shiro retreats her hand, twisting it in her own bangs as Keith begins to build a steady pace, fingers pumping in and out in shallow thrusts. 

Shiro had forgotten what it was like, how good it feels to have someone else’s hands on her. There’s that thrill and pleasant tingle, heat growing and spreading like fire up her spine. Her breaths come out in shallow pants, quiet moans slipping past her open lips whenever Keith swipes her thumb over her clit or hits a good spot inside.

She doesn’t realize, at first, how Keith has swung a leg over Shiro’s thigh, how she moves in time with her fingers. But when she does notice, it’s like hot oil is running through her veins.

“Keith, holy shit-“ Shiro can’t even focus her gaze on Keith rutting against Shiro’s hip, can’t keep her eyes from rolling back in her skull. She feels Keith rub her wet cunt against her, and it’s what does it for her. Heat starts to pool at her core, back arching as it spills over into something she can’t fathom. She knows she’s making noise, feels the vibration in her throat, but it’s like all sound is muted, vision going white. Just her entire body zoning in on the waves of pleasure washing over her.

It goes on forever, even if realistically it’s probably just a few seconds. 

The world reappears around her slowly, the sound of her own breathing to start. When she finally opens her eyes, it’s to Keith’s sated smirk, heavy eyes. She’s so beautiful it hurts.

“So that was…” Shiro starts to say, voice raspy and heavy. Keith sits up next to her, waiting. Shiro cracks a tired smile. “Forget it, I don’t even know what words are anymore.”

  
\---

—

  
  
  


Shiro twirls a lock of sweat damp, black hair around her finger. Blunt nails drag slow patterns on her stomach, soothing motions as both their heartbeats begin to slow. 

In the half dark, curled into her body and melting into soft bedding, Keith is perfect. So impossibly beautiful, fitting against Shiro’s long limbs like they were carved for her. 

It’s been such a long time since sex felt this important. Intertwining, spiritual almost. Something far beyond the skin and heat.

“We should go sometime.” 

She’s not sure where the words come from, or why she says them. 

Keith tilts her head where she’s resting on the swell of Shiro’s breast, looking up at her with a quizzical arch to her brow. “What?”

Shiro is struck again by how pretty the woman in her bed is.

“To Bordeaux,” Shiro clearifies, and Keith’s tired eyes widen just a fraction. “I’ve never been, but I hear it’s beautiful.”

Keith squirms around to lie on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbow. Wild hair falls over her face, and she lets Shiro brush it away with gentle fingers.

“You’re asking me on a cross-sea trip to France when we’ve been on one date?”

Her voice is light, but Shiro sees the wariness like a shadow in blue eyes. 

“Sorry,” Shiro curls her fingers over Keith’s jaw. “I guess it doesn’t feel like a first date to me.”

There’s a twitch in the corner of Keith’s mouth, a smile trying to hide. Shiro wiggles her brows, and Keith giggles. She slaps Shiro’s stomach, huffing as she lets herself be guided in for a quick kiss.

“Sappy.” She mutters, and Shiro grins. “But I guess I’d be alright with this walking and talking wet dream of mine to whisk me off to France to make out at the grand theatre and go wine tasting.”

Shiro laughs, long and loud with Keith snickering above her. 

“I really don’t understand you.” She muses through quiet giggles when she gathers herself. She tugs the woman at her side closer, pulling her up to get their faces level with a strong arm around Keith’s waist. “You’re… unconventional, and messy. But you still come off graceful. Like a Jackson Pollock.”

Keith snorts, nose wrinkling and body squirming in Shiro’s hold. 

“Did you just compare me to a canvas covered in paint splatter?”

“See that’s exactly what I mean!” Shiro watches as Keith starts to laugh, warm puffs of breath fanning across Shiro’s face. “You know and understand all this sophisticated stuff, but you’re not… it’s like you’re-“

“Selectively fancy?” Keith offers, slinging a leg over Shiro’s waist. It makes Shiro flare hot, terribly aware of just how naked they both still are. 

“That’s one way to put it.” Shiro mumbles, burying her face in the crook of Keith’s neck, splaying her hand out over the plushest part of Keith’s thigh. She breathes her in, feels her pulse against her own skin. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Keith sounds so smug, pressing closer, into Shiro’s touch.

She doesn’t reply in words, doesn’t need to.


End file.
